


grey fish

by lokidreamsinbw



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Protective Thor, Rape Aftermath, Sexual Assault, Teenage AU, dark themes, thor gets his revenge, thor protects loki to the death, uncle ve is a son of a, when your heart aches you cry tears of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidreamsinbw/pseuds/lokidreamsinbw
Summary: Odin's brother, Uncle Ve stops by for a few days visit. Loki starts acting weird.





	grey fish

**Author's Note:**

> tw for mentions of rape, blood and murder.

The fish tank stands on a table in the living room.

It’s way past 2 AM. The house is dark. Everyone is up in their rooms.

The fish tank casts an electric blue light onto the thick carpet and leather sofa. The blue light drops into the mugs left out on the coffee table like ice cubes, about letting out the faintest of _clinks!_ As it bumps against the ceramic.

Cheese and ham sandwich in hand, Thor stops just before he’s about to pass through all that blue on his way up to his room. He takes a big bite out of his sandwich and stares at the fish tank, scratching an itch on the back of his neck.

The fish tank lets out a hum, the kind you can feel reverberating in and around your eye sockets and in the back of your skull. Even the light it omits doesn’t travel soundlessly, it buzzes like this broken thing no one has the time or energy to fix. And the bubbles, Thor can hear them too, floating up and bursting into this fresh cool spray, letting out this sound that makes you feel like your ears are clogged, makes you wanna shake your head, open your jaws as wide as you can, stick a finger all the way up to the taut eardrum, try and relieve the numbing pressure.

Thor walks up to the fish tank. Bends forward, hand braced on his left knee.

When their dad Odin first got the fish tank it had four fish in it. Grey-white fish, twisting their small bodies around as if they had no bones underneath the scales, no spine. Darting for cover the second someone got too close to the glass, digging shallow hiding places in the rock and sand at the bottom using their heads, worming their way through the grey castle’s windows and doors. Paper-thin tails flapping in the shadows within it.

Three of them died.

_Thump!_

Thor’s head snaps up to the right, squinting into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Sounded like someone dropped something.

Thor waits for a few beats, even straightening up to his full height in case he hears a voice swearing cause maybe someone needs help. In the dark he can hear himself blinking, that’s how quiet the house is and when no further sounds appear, he bends forward once again and scans the bluish water, looking for the sole survivor.

The water looks like it has electricity running through it and the stone castle to the left looks like an echo. The water is clean. The fish hasn’t been digging around cause when it does the water has fine sand particles floating in it everywhere.

Thor taps the glass.

His eyes are drawn to the coral-colored rock fragments littering the fish tank’s floor, mixed with some grey ones and some black. In the right corner there’s a tiny treasure box, bronze and mute.

Thor taps the glass again.

The fish flies out through the castle’s opening as if caught doing something bad. Twisting its body like a worm, it cuts through the water and hides behind the treasure box.

Still chewing on a bit of his sandwich, Thor winces in disgust without meaning to. Something about the decaying-grey color of its scales, or its red eye watching Thor, wide and inhuman, as it moved past him to hide, might have brought on this feeling in him.

Thor taps the glass just where the fish is hiding. He wants it to come out, but it doesn’t. It stays hidden behind the treasure box.

Thor looks at the castle. Looking at it again, Thor thinks that before it looked glorious. Now it looks like a ruin and a strange sadness settles inside his heart.

He steps into the light then out of it, making his way up the stairs.

The door to Loki’s room is a little ajar.

Thor wets his lips, wanting to whisper out his name.

But then, the door closes decisively. It’s not a gust of wind slamming it shut—the knob actually turns and it clicks shut, using some force but not enough to make a loud noise.

Thor stands there thinking that the grey moonlight sneaking into Loki’s room through the crack must have woken him up and caused him to stomp out of bed and angrily close it.

Listening to the bubbles popping and that hum buzzing against his vertebras, Thor catches a faint whiff of something. Smells spicy, like fir trees. It draws the outline of a forest on the wall joining Loki’s room and the guest room. It makes Thor think of the lake by their house, of the cool draft coming through the trees standing around it in a crescent moon shape, of Odin’s small chipped-white boat and its slippery oars.

Loki’s name on his lips again. He wants to go knocking on his door, just to make sure.

Convincing himself he’s just being silly, he goes back to bed.

*

In the morning, just as they all finish their breakfast (not Loki though, he doesn’t even touch his sunny-side-up eggs and buttered toast, instead he sits there with his arms crossed over his chest, occasionally blinking hard and rubbing his eyes cause they seem to be itching), the fish gives a final kick of its tail and then floats, belly up.

Odin, who’s busy flipping through some photography books with his brother, their uncle Ve, spots it first and grabs the side of his head going: “ugh! Another one bites—”

“-the wave,” Ve says, peeking at the dead fish over the rim of his reading glasses, “poor fella. Can’t complain though. Died having his own castle. That’s luxury right there. Could swim like a champ, I envy him that. Odin here is a natural swimmer too. Me, you toss me into a pond, I sink like a stone. Never learned to swim.”

“The fish died?” Frigga asks, looking not too curious and a little put off, the prospect of death over breakfast isn’t that lovely to her.

Odin lets out a long sigh, reaching for the orange fish net to pull the dead fish out of the water, “yeah. Someone grab me a garbage bag?”

Thor casts a long look at Loki from across the table. Loki is rubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand, fingers curled up, fine knuckles showing above a black hair tie snapped around his wrist.

It’s overcast outside and the bleak November light makes the waves in Loki’s hair look bluish-purple. His lashes are wet and sticky due to all that rubbing.

“Contacts bothering you?” Thor asks as he’s about to pass by him to get Odin a bag for the fish.

Loki pushes the heel of his hand in, pressing the eyeball back into the socket and rubs furiously. Tugs on the corner of his eye, then lets go. Blinks up at Thor with his eyelid twitching fast and the white of the eye a little pink. He shakes his head no.

One look at Loki’s eyes from up close and Thor can tell Loki’s not wearing his contacts today. And with his eyes being so irritated he’ll probably opt for his black framed glasses today.

Stepping into the kitchen, Thor shakes out a black garbage bag.

He stands there holding it open while Odin scoops the fish out. Water drips out through the fish net’s tiny holes.

Still holding a photography book open in his hand, Ve folds his reading glasses and sticks them inside the breast pocket of his buttoned-up shirt, studying the dead fish lying on its back inside the net.

The shirt Ve is wearing is a little shiny, the color of jewelry that start losing their luster. It reminds Thor of the fish’s scales, how they twinkled as it hurried past him towards the treasure box to hide, and when Odin drops it into the trash bag in Thor’s hands, Thor feels relieved in a way. He knows chucking it into the bin would feel great but he doesn’t know why.

“Poor fella,” Thor hears Ve saying as he makes his way towards the kitchen, tied-up bag in his hand, fish swaying inside in a shallow pool of pale water, “we never know when it’s our time to go, right?”

After he gets rid of the fish, Thor washes his hands with dish soap, cleans everywhere, even between his fingers, splashes water all the way up to his elbows.

As he dries his hands carefully he hears Frigga talking to Loki.

“Stop rubbing your eyes. They’ll go red.”

“They’re really itchy. I can’t help it.”

“Maybe you should try removing your contacts.”

“I’m not wearing them right now. Couldn’t pop them in when I woke up cause my eyes itched so bad.”

Standing in the kitchen’s doorway, Thor goes: “hey” and when Loki looks up at him, Thor motions him over.

He runs the tap for him and Loki takes his glasses out of his jeans pocket and hands them to Thor.

He bends over the sink, cups his hands under the running water. Starts washing his face, trying to get as much of the water into his eyes as possible.

Thor moves Loki’s glasses around in his palm, fingertips sliding over the sleek plastic frames.

Loki splashes water on his face for a full minute, stopping from time to time to rub at his eyes and let out an irritated hiss cause the itchiness just won’t go away.

And for some reason, Thor feels this intense need to give him a hug. One of these hugs where you feel like you fall into the other person, like you can protect them by pulling them into your own body where they can wear your skeleton as armor, have your ribs protect their heart. He wants to hold him, press Loki’s forehead into his shoulder, lay a palm over the back of Loki’s head. Hold Loki with his long-sleeved black shirt and his soft wavy hair, his scratchy red-rimmed eyes and his peculiar silence, his hoarse voice as of this morning, his pale palms and fingers red from the cold water, his light frame and his touching vulnerability.

But he doesn’t, because Ve walks in, having heard Frigga talking to him about the condition of his eyes, and lays a long-fingered hand on Loki’s left shoulder.

Loki grabs at the sink with both hands, head snapping up. Water drips down his chin and he stares ahead.

“You okay, kid?” Ve asks.

“Yeah,” Loki says and cups his hands under the running water again.

“How about I give you a ride to school. Wouldn’t want you crossing streets like that with your eyesight all blurry.”

Uncle Ve came to visit them two days ago. An amateur photographer, he brought his camera with him and was really bummed out he couldn’t get a few snaps of their lake and fir trees before he had to leave this morning.

Loki blinks the water out of his eyes, “yeah, sure.”

Ve gives his shoulder a light squeeze then looks at Thor, “coming with?”

“My classes start at ten,” Thor says.

Ve gives this great shrug like _what can ya do_ and walks back into the living room, asking Odin about that photograph he spotted in this or that book and after Loki pats his face dry, Thor hands him his glasses.

“Feels a bit better?” Thor asks.

Loki just squeezes his left eye shut and, reaching under the glasses, rubs and tugs on its corner.

*

Math class has just started like ten minutes ago and Thor asks to go to the bathroom.

His teacher just gives him a _I’m really tired of this shit_ look cause she knows no one really goes to the bathroom anymore when they say they do, they go out to have a smoke and come back with bag on shoulder, chewing a strong minty gum to mask the misty scent of cigarette smoke. With younger kids the teachers try and stop them, influencing young minds is easier, shaping their brains like clay. With older ones, the 17, 18 year olds, they don’t even bother anymore.

Stepping out of the building out into the yard, Thor taps the cigarette pack against his thigh as he walks round the school, lazily heading towards the tiny playground to the left. It used to be an elementary school years before and no one bothered plucking the rusty merry-go-round out of the ground, or yanking out the swing set. Students come out there to smoke cause it’s facing away from the teachers’ lounge. There are Pepsi cans and cigarette butts everywhere. It’s really warm out there in the spring and really cold during the winter. It smells of old grass and faded-orange memories.

Moving down the paved trail, Thor spots Loki sitting in one of the swings. He’s wearing his elephant-grey coat and keeps his head low, not pushing with his feet or holding on with his hands.

And again that need, like a wave rising inside Thor’s chest, to speak Loki’s name. Yet he approaches him from behind without saying a word.

The wind picks up speed. It comes from the front, blowing Loki’s hair back, the hood of his coat. It moves heavy rain clouds floating over the shadowy hills. Rattles the dry branches of the aging trees.

Something small and wet hits Thor in the center of his chest. It feels like rain. But it’s warm as it soaks through his white sweater and when Thor looks down he sees it’s a spot of blood.

Frowning, Thor looks up at Loki’s back.

Loki is rubbing at his eyes, Thor can tell by the repetitive movements of his shoulders. Only he is doing it faster now, and it looks like he’s rubbing at his face too, like he’s trying to wipe something off it.

Heart thudding in his chest, Thor grips Loki’s right shoulder.

Startled, Loki looks over his shoulder and Thor lets out a hollow gasp.

Blood comes out of Loki’s eyes, falling down his face like tears.

*

Blood pools like lacquer on his water line. Shines in the inner corner of his eyes. Rivulets of it by the sides of his nose. It slides down his curved cupid’s bow. Trickles from top lip to bottom and drips off his chin.

And he rubs and rubs, smearing blood across his temples and into his hair, giving Thor teary red blinks.

*

Thor gets Loki home and Frigga drives them to the emergency room, frantic and terrified.

Loki wants to wipe the blood off his face but she insists a doctor sees it first as it is, see the red traces leading down all the way to his chin and neck from his eyes, because the blood has stopped flowing when they started for the hospital and she was afraid no doctor would believe them, think they’re trying to pull some kind of a prank.

“And you sure you didn’t hurt your eyes?” she keeps asking, voice shaky, looking at Loki through the rear view mirror, “maybe you scratched them with your fingernails? I told you not to rub them so much!”

Droplets of blood dry slowly all over the front of Loki’s grey coat.

“It’s not a scratch mom,” Thor says, “something’s wrong.”

“But maybe his contacts…an infection…”

They wait for five hours in the ER until a doctor is able to see them. He checks Loki’s eyes for any scratches, asks him if he keeps his contacts clean or if he ever falls asleep without taking them out. Checks his blood pressure. Checks his glucose level.

Loki’s blood pressure is a little elevated but that’s because his heart is beating too fast which the doctor attributes to stress. He doesn’t have diabetes. No scratches anywhere on his eyes, no signs of infection. Loki keeps his contacts clean, doesn’t sleep with them in.

The doctor tells them to buy new contacts for him. He says they should visit his physician and get them to do some bloodwork—some types of blood cancers can cause spontaneous bleeding (at which Frigga blanches and tries holding her tears in). He says he should get an eye exam and maybe an MRI scan to check for a brain tumor or aneurysm, any abnormalities in the blood vessels in the face as well.

“Maybe you just rubbed too hard and your eyes got irritated,” he echoes Frigga’s words and Thor clenches his jaw and his heart feels like it would flee from his chest cause what if Loki has cancer, what if he’s dying?

Signing the release forms, the doctor sends them on their way.

Out in the parking lot, Frigga showers kisses on Loki’s head and face and hugs him.

He falls asleep on Thor’s shoulder on their way back home and when they get there it’s Thor who sits Loki down on the edge of the tub and very carefully, wipes the blood off his face, soothingly caressing his hair.

*

The eye exam comes first.

The doctor checks for any abnormalities in the tiny blood vessels inside Loki’s eyes. He conducts a fundus exam to see if there’s any intracranial pressure—a tumor in Loki’s brain or fluid, or an abscess pressing down on his brain. He checks the pressure of the fluid inside his eyes. Pulls his bottom lid down to check for any injuries to blood vessels there. Tries to find out if his tear ducts are blocked somewhere.

Apart from Loki being near-sighted, there’s nothing wrong with his eyes.

The doctor becomes rude and standoffish the second he comes to the conclusion that all this is just nonsensical cause with perfectly good eyes there’s no way this kid is crying tears of blood and they’re probably just an attention seeking family or something, or the kid is playing a game, tricking everyone.

Frigga tries standing up to him but he brushes her off saying he’s got a patient on his way who needs to have eye surgery soon, a real, important case, you see.

Thor helps Loki back to their car cause Loki can’t see that well because of the atropine they put in his eyes to dilate his pupils.

The entire drive home Loki has his palm covering his eyes, hiding his face in Thor’s shoulder.

*

Life kind of starts going back to normal when it happens again.

It’s been two weeks since the first time it happened and with the eye doctor saying that it looks like there’s nothing wrong with Loki’s brain, coupled with how he told them “he’s got nothing wrong going on with him, you’ve just wasted thirty minutes of my time” Frigga actually started to relax thinking maybe they _were_ overreacting and maybe it was just this one time thing that happened that will never happen again and she told Loki not to rub his eyes too hard, right? He should have listened.

But one evening they’re having dinner at home and Loki puts his slice of pizza down on the plate to rub at his left eye.

Thor notices it straight away.

He sets his slice down too and leans sideways, talking close to Loki’s ear, “you alright?”

Loki winces and rubs harder.

When he opens his eyes, he’s got tears in them, clear and shiny.

Frigga spots him rubbing his eyes and leans across the table, grabbing his wrist, pulling his hand away, “stop that!”

Odin points at Loki, “is that what happened before—”

“Thor said Loki’s eyes were itchy before they started bleeding.”

“But. Did they bleed _because_ of all that rubbing, or—”

Frigga clicks her tongue impatiently, “we don’t know yet. Loki, stop it!”

Loki was able to yank his hand free and now he’s wiping at his eyes again.

“Loki—”

“Mom stop it,” Thor says.

Frigga tries getting hold of Loki’s wrist again, “you put your contacts in today?”

Loki shakes his head no and his mouth twists in pain, forearm coming up to cover his eyes after he takes off his glasses.

He hasn’t. He’s been wearing his glasses for two weeks straight now.

Thor puts an arm around Loki’s shoulder, whispers in his ear: “it hurts?”

Loki gives a small nod.

Loki hides his face in his hands.

Blood comes trickling out through his fingers.

*

When it’s time for Loki to get his head MRI done, he asks Thor if he can stay in the room with him.

The tech guy isn’t too happy about it because of all the electromagnetic radiation but Thor insists.

The tech guy gives Thor a pair of earplugs too and Thor gives Loki’s hand a warm squeeze before the lights go out and the table Loki’s lying on moves into the tube.

It’s the soft spongy earplugs in Thor’s ears and it’s the sight of Loki’s hands lying by his sides with the hospital bracelet on around his wrist and the cannula in the crook of his elbow keeping his vein open for the MRI contrast to come, and it’s the grinding and clashing sounds coming from the machine as it rotates around Loki’s head and when they pause the scan to hit the button that injects the contrast, the sloshing sound the contrast makes as it moves down through the tubing, it makes Thor remember the fish tank and the door to Loki’s room left ajar in the dark hallway and his eyes fill up with tears.

He covers his face with his hands and sniffs quietly, tears gathering in the creases of his palms.

*

The MRI scan results arrive a month later. The bloodwork two weeks before that. None of them show any sign of cancer or of any other illness.

Loki’s given a clean bill of health.

*

One evening, a knock on the front door as they’re having dinner.

Frigga leaves the table to answer it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, Ve’s walking to her right carrying a small overnight bag on his shoulder, flashing everyone a grey smile.

“You didn’t call!” Odin says but he’s smiling big and jumping out of his seat to hug Ve the second Ve drops his bag to the floor and Ve gives his _what can ya do_ shrug.

Ve makes a small detour into the living room. Thor hears him tapping his fingers on the empty fish tank, checking to see if they got some new fish. They haven’t unplugged it since.

When the water remains undisturbed and no sparkly tail emerges from the shadows of the castle or out from between the colorful rock fragments, he walks back into the kitchen, clicking his tongue.

He scans the dining table, “anything good for me?”

“I made some steak and hash browns,” Frigga beams, hurrying to set up a plate for him and fix him a nice portion of hot comfort food cause he had a long trip driving down all the way from Minnesota just to see them.

Ve cups a hand around his left ear, “all I hear is divine music in my ears, angels singing the steak song and potatoes joining in a choir. You are wonderful! Dear brother, wherever did you find such a godsend creature? I can’t get my wife to heat up a precooked meal for me!”

Odin gives Ve a wink and Thor leans back in the chair, looking their uncle over, arms crossed over his chest.

Loki fidgets in his seat.

“Oh! Before I forget!” Ve points at Odin, “can you take this old boy here to the lake tomorrow? I didn’t get a chance to take any pictures the last time and I’d love to get one with the trees and this soothing grayish morning light you’ve got going on here.”

“He can’t,” Frigga says as she piles up food on his large plate, “he has to go pick up a new mosquito net tomorrow and pick up some paint for the garage door. Right, darling?”

Odin flashes his brother an apologetic smile.

Ve claps Loki on the shoulder, “maybe _he_ can take me?”

Loki tenses up.

“Loki?” Frigga laughs, “never. He hates leaving the house. It’s his emo period.”

Loki pushes his plate away gently.

“Sorry,” he mutters then he’s out of his chair, taking the other door to the living room and then up the stairs to his room.

“Loki!” Frigga calls after him.

Odin gives her this look like leave the kid alone.

Thor’s cheeks flash red with violence.

He spotted the growing stain on the front of Loki’s jeans when he ducked out of the kitchen.

Saw it spreading down his leg.

Ve hooks a thumb over his shoulder after Loki, “what’s up with him?”

Frigga shakes her head in a _it’s complicated_ way and sets the plate in front of him.

Ve takes off his red baseball cap, tosses it onto the table just by the salt shaker and checks in his breast pocket to make sure he didn’t lose his reading glasses or wallet on his way over.

Thor stares at him without moving his eyes. He stares as Ve rolls up his sleeves and loosens the top button on his grey shirt. He stares as Ve uses his leg to push his overnight bag under the table. He stares as he casts a glance over his shoulder at the staircase. He stares as Ve picks up his knife and fork, ready to dig in.

“I’ll take you,” Thor says.

Everyone grows quiet. Frigga pauses mid giving the salad a toss. Odin blinks at Thor as he helps himself to some more hash browns.

Takes Ve a few seconds to realize Thor is talking to him. But just to make sure, he points his thumbs at himself, knife and fork still in hand, mouthing: _me?_ And Thor nods, chin up, head cocked back.

“Take me where?”

“To the lake,” Thor says without uncrossing his arms, “you said you wanted to go.”

Frigga wets her lips, “I don’t think—”

“He can do it,” Odin says, looking at Thor like a super proud dad, “right?”

Thor nods slowly.

“I can do it,” he says.

*

That night Thor stays in Loki’s room.

As Loki sleeps in his arms, Thor blinks in the darkness.

*

It’s Sunday morning and Loki wakes up to the sound of talking outside his window.

He recognizes Thor’s voice and that makes him get out of bed and push the black curtains back to take a look.

His left cheek feels sticky. Something crusted over the corner of his eye. He looks back at the pillows and spots a few droplets of dry brown blood on the white cotton of the pillowcase. His eyes feel sore, like he spent the entire night crying.

Everyone’s outside except for Odin who headed into town early to get the paint and mosquito net for the back door.

Frigga’s there, ginger hair piled up all messy on top of her head, tightening the cord of her silk green night robe around her waist.

Ve has his camera hanging off a thick strap around his neck, baseball cap pulled on tight.

Frigga points in the direction of the lake and says something to Ve which makes him nod really fast and hold his palms up like _everything’s gonna be okay_.

Thor’s there too. He’s wearing a white rain coat and his hair is tucked behind his ears. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, smoothing his hair back.

Loki rests his temple against the window frame, picking at the dried-up blood on his cheek with a fingernail.

With his white coat, standing there on the gray gravel path with the ash-colored winter trees swaying in the cold behind him, Thor looks like freshly-fallen snow and Loki’s eyes fill up with tears.

Frigga points to the lake again and Ve walks up to her and pats her on the shoulder reassuringly and she puts one hand on her hip, the other still keeping the robe tight about her.

Then, Thor looks up.

He looks straight at Loki and holds his gaze.

The wind flutters his raised coat collar. His eyes soften. They look haunted and pained.

Ve claps Thor on the shoulder and Thor turns his head.

Loki watches as they walk down the path then take a left turn.

He watches until he can’t see them anymore then sits down heavily on the edge of his bed.

*

Half an hour later, Thor bursts through the front door and, collapsing onto his knees, covers his face with his hands and cries.

Frigga’s there by his side in a second, shaking his shoulders, trying to get him to tell her what happened.

Thor is soaked. Water drips off his hair and chin and his jeans and coat stick to his body like cellophane.

Loki sits stone-still in his chair in the kitchen. His breathing speeds up and his heart flutters.

“We fell into the water,” Thor moans into his palms, wiping at his eyes then covering his face again, keeping his head low, “he wanted to take a picture, mom. The fir trees. I don’t know what happened. He stood up too fast? The boat flipped over. He went down like a stone. I swam after him.”

Thor looks up and Frigga wipes the hair back from his forehead with a shaking hand. Water pools under his knees, under the soles of his shoes, grey, metallic water that catches the daylight and shines dimly.

Staring up into her eyes, Thor says: “when I pulled him out, he was already dead.”

Frigga runs out the front door, feet bare, shiny green robe flying behind her like a pair of wings. She leaves the door wide open.

Thor looks up at Loki, eyes now dry.

They exchange a meaningful look.

Loki heaves a sigh of relief and closes his eyes.

From the living room comes the sound of the empty fish tank—the constant hum. The soft bursting of bubbles.


End file.
